Jabberwocky in Storybrooke
by TheJauntyJabberwock
Summary: The Jabberwocky has escaped into Storybrooke. New games can begin as the Wonderland Monstrosity begs the question: now that she has her freedom, what will she do with it? And is it truly all she has ever wanted? How will the others react? (Also features Hook and later Regina with cameos by others. I'm treating this much as it's own season.)
1. Chapter 1

It was so…quiet. There was no jabber…jabber…jabber…of fears or thoughts or words. How long had she been here? Pinned to this wall? Left to rot? Forgotten. How many years? Since she had helped Alice and the others, to have her one request ignored. Freedom. It was all she had wanted. Now there was only darkness, and the hunger within. Perhaps…after so many years…she might sleep. Her eyes drifted closed, though it did not truly matter within the pitch and the black. Her eyes drifted closed…and then the sound of steal and metal and the crackle of rust, all grinding together, snatched her attention. _Someone was here_.

She did not move, but she did not have to stir to reach out for the intruder. She could see him without seeing him at all. The beads of nervous sweat trickling down his hair line, perspiration on upper lip as he fumbled to light the torch near the door. His hands were shaking, the firelight flickering in unsteady grasp. The smallest smile curled her lips as she snuffed out the torch, prompting a jump and race of heartbeat to fuel her. She could hear the sweet pitter-patter in his chest so clearly. Of course he was afraid, and she drank it in. It had been so long, and she was so hungry. But she was not stupid, she had to play this right if she was to gain her freedom.

He managed to light it again, and she heard him take a deep breath to steady his nerves. Pretend to be confident as his steps brought him closer. His voice still held a faint hint of a tremble when he spoke.

"Are you there?" she did not answer, the sound of sweeping flames as his torch searched the empty cells and bars. There she was, the warm flames doing nothing for her as light shone through her closed eye lids. He froze, and she allowed him silence before she raised her head, gazing at him through the thick main of white dreaded locks. He held his breath, until he could take the silence no longer.

"I've come-"

"Sssssssssssssh." she was already in his head, moving from room to room, listening to all his wonderful fears.

"I _know _why you've come." instead of threatening she made the words a gentle whisper, drifting along his skin like silken spider webs.

"They've all done nothing but push you around, haven't they? Done, and said, such terrible things. No one appreciates you, do they?" he did not answer, but then he didn't need to.

"Now you've come to free me. To prove to them all that only you, have the bravery to face the beast of legend they all fear. Are you afraid, Tristan?" of course he was, she could taste it the moment he walked in that door. Salt and sweat.

"N-No." That's right, lie.

"They've treated me terribly too. Monsters aren't born, we're created. By a cruel world, filled with cruel people. And they have been cruel to you too, haven't they?" he still didn't say anything, glancing away with discomfort. She could see all the things he feared, all the things he had suffered, so clearly. One fear in particular called out to her, and it was the exact key to her cell that she needed. Her voice lowered, filled to the brim with pain and threatening tears.

"It's been so lonely…" his attention snapped back to her, as she knew it would.

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. Hours? Days? _Years_?"

"They say you're a monster. The most terrifying thing in Wonderland."

"Then I suppose I deserve to stay here. Forgotten. Alone. They used me, and when they're done…" she trailed off, but the words had the impact she needed, stirred the right fears in him. Familiarity.

"They use me too." his words were small, but it drew him a step closer. She glanced at him, this young and stupid thing that was drifting in. How neatly spreads her claws, to welcome this little fishy in, with gently smiling jaws.

"And now you want to show them all better…" he nodded, so close to her.

"Those who have wronged me are long gone. Perhaps…I can take some comfort…in helping you?" he considered, but still he feared. The offer was tempting, but he still had just enough sense to hesitate.

"Perhaps…together?" this time the word was a breath and brush of lips against his neck, confusing fear for excitement and driving him forward to grasp the blade handle and glance to her face. He pulled with all his strength, falling backwards as it slid free from her.

She dropped to the floor with a sigh, stretching, popping, joints and bones and muscles into place. Oh did it feel good, just to move so freely again, to stretch! She doubted any human could understand such unmatched elation. Her attention snapped back to the boy, holding _her _blade. No longer was she the innocent victim she had played up, meeting her gaze was watching an oncoming storm at the edge of the sea.

"Thank you." with the short words she crawled towards him as he sat up, and he instinctively flinched as she was inches from him, gazing up with a sly smile.

"What's the matter? Didn't I say we would go together?" he nodded, his poor heart threatening to leap from his chest. She slid a hand over it, smiling at the way it pounded against his chest, and slipped her other hand to the back of his neck. He would have to move the sword beside him as she crawled into his lap, leaning in to brush against his ear with a whisper. He licked lips and closed eyes in anticipation.

"I lied." he didn't have time to tighten hand around the blade hilt and lift it, before she snapped his neck. He fell backwards with a heavy thud, cranium smacking into the hard stone floor, and she took the blade for herself.

"Nothing personal. I don't care for cages." she was up and heading for the exit, a flourish of ruffled feathers at her neck and giddy smile as she walked from her cell blade in hand. She was done with Wonderland. It was time to find a new world to play in…

AN: This was the preview chapter of her escape, the rest shall be placed in Storybrooke. The characters listed in the description will all be playing key roles for the coming chapters. I'm not posting the disclaimer because it is obvious I own none of these characters, it's on a fan-fiction site.


	2. Chapter 2

-**Chapter 2: And Welcome Little Fishes In With Gently Smiling Jaws!**

**AN: **trying to break my writer's block. Just a first draft, may come back and touch it up sometime in the future, right now I'm just trying to get some stuff down on paper so to speak.

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><p>What a quaint little town, with such a quaint little population. Her boots ground into the paved pathway, far too wide for even a carriage, filling the spaces between buildings in the dark. Though it was scarcely dark enough. Illumination came in the form of the stars and moon above, it came in the form of the street lamps with remained far too steady to be flame and buzzed with an undercurrent she did not understand. The Jabberwocky was slow. The Jabberwocky was steady in her pace. The Jabberwocky was <em>listening<em>. As her steady pace took her dead center down the not so winding path, her head twitched and eyes flicked over every fixture of this strange new world she had traveled to. The inhabitants were long swaddled away in their beds, adult and child alike safely dreaming in their heads. Safe. When she paused to allow herself to drift up to their minds, she detected mundane concerns tucked away in the corners of their thoughts. Brows barely furrowed, or perhaps one might shift in their sleep with softest sigh as she examined them. In this examination she was swift, moving so quickly from one thought to the next as she continued to walk, barely collecting a sample of what may await her here.

By the time she drifted back down to the present, she had come to what she recognized to be a main market, though each shop was empty. She paused to glance at her reflection in the darkened window shop, white matted locks spilling around a face that still looked as youthful as ever. She barely had time to lean forward before she heard noise moving her way. A stumbling man in black leather was coming in her direction, she could smell the drink on his breath from where she stood. Straitening to her full height once more, she paused dead center of the street and allowed the long trails of her own leather coat to pool at her feet. A smile on her lips, her voice reached out for the man as he came nearer to her, low and purring.

"Good evening." His steps hesitated, dragging his attention to her first in contemplation as to if she were truly there, and then giving a swaggering flourish of his arms and partial bow.

"Aye, well enough I suppose." His only hand still held the flask, which he took another swig from. Evidently, they did not know of her here, for his response to her lacked any hint of trepidation. She suspected it had nothing to do with his state of inebriation, her smile widening into a crocodile grin as she approached with quick steps and earned a raised brow in scrutiny.

"Can't say I've seen you abouts before," his voice held only the barest edge of caution, though he seemed well accustomed to facing danger and coming out the victor. He didn't back down or away as she closed the distance between them, even meeting her gaze as she towered over him.

"You wouldn't, no. I'm quite…new to these parts." Her eyes widened at the word new, accenting it with a wild gaze he wasn't impressed by.

"Yes, well, lovely lady like yourself. Welcome to Storybrooke then." He raised the flask in a toast of sorts, and even went so far as to offer it to her after another swig. She saw more fit to circle around him, resting an arm on his shoulder with no regard what so ever for his hint of a frown.

"You're the friendly sort then." He pretended not to be bothered by the invasion of personal space, but the air was colder for her presence and she could tell his skin was beginning to prick with goosebumps no matter how much confidence he wished to display.

"There are many words which can describe me…"

Despite the seductive velvet to her voice, the longer she hung around and the more she spoke the more undeniable it became. This was no ordinary woman. Each syllable uttered carried a bite of power with them. Not the conniving and ever knowing wit that Rumpelstiltskin had, not the authority of an Evil Queen, or the ice cold schemes of her mother. No, this was something entirely different. All the same he did very well to try and keep things casual, since he had faced off with and against each of the villains from his own world. He himself was hardly the heroic type, something to take comfort in at moments like these.

"Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," she cooed, "now why don't you tell me about this town of yours?" she was circling him again, coming to stop in front of him once more and smiling down, "Hmmmm?" he opened his mouth to speak again, but she pressed a cold finger to his lips to stop him.

"Sssssh. No. You've jabbered enough…" her head rolled in a full circle, popping in several places as it went, and now at last he felt it. The undeniable sensation of impending doom. His vision turned to black and he just made out her voice, a distant thing now, "Let me take a look."

In that very moment he was back on his ship. They were in open water, Smee glancing over the sides and quickly jumping into a panic.

"Captain! There's something in the water!" Hook was already rolling his eyes at the overly superstitious crew member, but moved forward to pear over the edge all the same. There was something in the water, a shadow lurking beneath the waves larger than any he had ever seen. A deep frown lacing his rugged features, he hurried towards the other side of the ship, seeing the same expanse of shadow. Rushing towards the back of the ship confirmed his fears, whatever was beneath his ship was far larger than any whale and he'd wager far deadlier than any mermaid. In that very moment the Jolly Rodger came to a halt, though this was no shore it had run aground upon. He spun back to his crew, orders already within his chest to be shouted, only to see the decks were empty. He glanced back down into the water, the shadow still looming a ways in the water. This had to be some kind of dream. Functional alcoholic though he may be, Killian knew what was real and what wasn't. His teeth grit in growing fury for the situation, pinching his cheek with his free hand only to find himself still stuck in this place.

"None of this is real." He consoled himself. As he made the realization, a fog had begun to creep in, the air so heavy he had to fight for each breath, and could see it linger before him in every exhale. Great, so not only was he asleep somewhere, but it seemed he was quite possibly freezing to death. He still wasn't afraid, he had often turned to anger instead, though what he saw when he glanced back out upon his deck still made his heart skip a beat.

There she was. Milah. She didn't question why she was the only one on the whole of the ship, she was busy untangling an expanse of rope. He knew this wasn't real, which was what made it hurt all the more when she glanced up at him, eyes reflecting the starlight beneath those dark waves of hair. She smiled, and he shut his eyes tight and clenched his fists, willing himself to try to awake again. Instead, he heard her gasp, and opened his eyes to see her expression laced with pain and confusion. From behind her stepped the crocodile, the Dark One in his sickly glee, clutching her head in his hand and looking him in the eyes as he crushed it to dust. She had only time to gasp, before collapsing. He still wasn't afraid, he was livid. He drew his blade and was rushing towards the giggling mad man with a furious yell, confident that at least in his own head he could win this time, but it all went up in smoke. He heard a voice that he knew, and yet he didn't know, speak around the darkness.

"Too far back, I need something new. Something…recent…" the final word was a hiss, and when the scene around him emerged again, he was standing in the streets of Storybrooke again.

Specifically, he was outside of Granny's. He felt compelled to go inside, his feet moving without his full realization until the chime above the door sounded off his arrival. Those within paused from their meals and socialization to glance his way, either with indifference or active distrust. He was used to this, brushing it aside, even flashing a charming smile in the face of Granny's disapproving glare. She turned in a huff as everyone resumed their usual activities, only one person bothering to approach the former pirate.

"What are you doing here?" Emma Swan. Mother. Savior. The woman who had captured his heart. Though she always seemed to have something to occupy her full attention, if not one disaster there was another, he wasn't giving up on her just yet. No, not without a fight. He knew she couldn't resist his charms forever, few could-

"I thought I told you, the next time I see you I'd be arresting you." She was often irritated with him, sure, they had their rough patches, but this was something different entirely.

"After what you did to Henry, you're lucky you're still standing at all. Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince Regina not to kill you outright?" before he could give a snide retort or voice his confusion for this whole situation she was cutting him off again, "What were you thinking?" her anger melted away into something even worse. Disappointment. In him, in herself. She still held anger in her voice, like him she often used it to mask her true emotions, but he could pick out what she was truly feeling even without her next words.

"I was an idiot for trusting you. You'll never be anything but a villain." He reached for her, but she yanked her shoulder back out of reach and took a step back. Once again all eyes were on him, Ruby giving him a glare that said she'd be happy to go wolf and take a nice chunk out of him.

"Don't. I don't ever want to see your face around here again. Get out." He didn't even know what had happened, this had to all be a misunderstanding. He was different now, he was changing for her.

"Emma!" he reached for her, but the entire vision was ripped away from him.

He awoke gasping to catch his breath, crumpled on the pavement and lung burning. The woman, no, the creature, still towered above him. Her words were calm and smooth, and yet perfectly sinister.

"Emma…" just tasting the name, on her lips alone it was a violation, enough to drive him to his feet with a glare.

"What," his breath hadn't quite caught back up to his rage yet, but it was getting there, "the hell are you?" Her smile she gave now spoke for her. Ah. So he understood now. She was far from some pretty face.

"How doth the little crocodile, Improve his shining tail. And pour the waters of the Nile, on every golden scale! How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws. And welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws!" she gave the quote perfectly, allowing a giggle to slip from her lips which sounded frightfully like that of a child.

"I've met a crocodile, you're not it." No, this was something far worse. This…monster, could get into your head. She wasn't even paying attention to him now, her gaze and attention looking far beyond his shoulders.

"Oh, is that where she lives? She seems…interesssting. Perhaps I shall pay her a visit." The creature before him licked its lips, a perfectly deadly grin over her features, and it was the final straw. Killian had his sword drawn and in hand that very moment, having long dropped the flask and now stood in a perfect stance for the coming battle.

"Whatever foul thing you are, you won't touch her!" It was true. He had been a villain. For what he had done, for all the things they didn't even know he had done, he may never be viewed as anything but the pirate he had once been. A part of him knew that. Accepted that. He hoped that one day, perhaps he could atone for everything. Be a hero worthy to stand by her side. But for now he was still a pirate. For now he was still just beginning to make up for his crimes. What was one more? Especially when it was to protect her. To protect Henry. Hell, to protect everyone in this town. He had no doubts in his mind at all that he was righteous in this cause. Every instinct within him was screaming to eliminate her before she could cause the amount of damage he somehow knew she was here to inflict. This would be fast, he swung in to eliminate his smiling adversary, but his weapon made contact with nothing.

Thin air. He twirled about, looking for his foe, but she was gone. No puff of smoke to signal her departure, not lingering scent of magic, just gone. He almost could have believed he was going crazy, that he had imagined the whole thing, but he heard her voice linger in his head.

"I think this new world is going to be mossssst…entertaining…" and the voice trailed off, leaving behind a sudden migraine. His grip on the hilt of his weapon tightened until his knuckles were white, teeth grit as he seethed. This wasn't over. He sheathed the weapon for now, but he knew she would be back. Wait, Emma! He turned and broke into a sprint towards her apartment, determined to try and get there before the monster and make sure she was alright. Whatever he had just encountered, this was only the beginning. He would kill it. His mind was already made up. If Rumpelstiltskin was a crocodile she was a Kraken, and she would learn that he was the last man to make an enemy of.


	3. Chapter 3

-**Chapter 3: Watcher** -

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> this became a between things, but I promise the next chapter is where the story will really pick up pace and get going. ;)

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><p>She had not, in fact, gone after this Emma character as she had threatened. She allowed the worry to sink in and the pirate to run after his beloved, but she herself remained distant. There was still much to this world she had left to discover. Perched atop a rooftop, she watched the denizens of the town below. Day after day she picked and she plucked from each of them little more than morsels of general anxieties and distant terrors. No one noticed her invisible on the rooftops above, though they would feel the pressing and sudden chill as they passed below. Someone walked over their grave, a smirk on her lips as each in turn would shiver and dismiss the emotion.<p>

She saw the woman. The blond savior, whose face seemed forever stuck in sour disposition save for when her child was near. She saw the Evil Queen, a woman whose name she had gathered only for the fear it inspired in the towns people as she passed by. The woman's own anxieties spoke the same as the pirate, that they would never see her as anything more than her past crimes. Second chances. That was what this town spoke of, beyond all the fears they harbored. For a small town which had suffered much, for each individual whose unpleasant memories she managed to pry free, there was something else lingering over the town. A force even stronger than terror. Hope.

The very realization made her shoulders ruffle the feathers at her jacket collar, a displeased huff escaping her lips with eyes narrowed. Pathetic. For them to be able to cling so easily to such a worthless concept, they must not have known true terror. They must not have known her.

"Don't worry, little doves, you will be graced soon enough..." her words failed to drift down to anyone's ears, it was only useless jabber. Her terrible eyes flicked swiftly to one head in particular. Oh? She knew that face. She stood from her seat for the first time in a week, quick steps keeping pace with his on the rooftops above and gaze steady on prey. Knave. The Knave was here in this world? After he joined the others in fighting so hard to remove Jafar, to lay defense upon Wonderland? She came to a stop, crouching and curling fingers over the edge before her. There was something different about him now. Head tilted in contemplation and she inhaled the air. Aaaaaaaah. Yes. She could smell it now, unlike before. He had been broken before, missing something, and she hadn't been able to read him.

"Things change..."

The hiss of words aloud made him freeze, a familiar terror drawing over him. He was no longer fearless, a fact which delighted her beyond reason. Should she slink down the side of this building now? Should she slither up to him and coil around him? He was looking for her, for the source of the apprehension which seeped closer with his every breath. She could feel each jump of his pulse on her tongue as she slid down the building, invisible to all eyes. As she came closer he froze. With each step it became harder for him to draw air into his lungs. An asthma attack for one who had never been asthmatic. Panic. Anxiety. Dread. And she hadn't even spoken up yet. Hadn't yet revealed herself. It wasn't fear which kept her at bay, she could snap his neck with ease. Even if he was allowed to live, would anyone believe his warnings to them? As breathing became hard enough for him to drop to his knees, hands clutching at throat as if it would allow air to return to him, she drank in the terror. Yes. You're going to die here, terror tasting like sweet jam tarts, you're going to die. She leaned down, her lips so close to his ears they brushed his skin when she opened lips to speak.

Only to be interrupted.

"What's going on? Are you okay?" a squeak laced with concern, she glanced up to see a balding ginger with glasses and an umbrella clutched tight. She stepped back and away as this new man rushed forward, air returning to the Knave's lungs as she withdrew. The new figure didn't seem to want to touch her little tart without permission, hovering awkwardly instead of placing hands upon his back. She began to step backwards up the building side, eyes upon them still. Watching as she gained height. Knave regained his faculties, muttering a dismissal as he stood.

"It's passed. It's nothing." Still secretive? Still lying? Her eyes narrowed above the smile which split her face. Knave was eager to brush it all off, to make quick pace away from the place, leaving the other man behind and bewildered. She let him run off of course, a quick death was a mercy for one such as the Knave. The Jabberwocky had all the time in the world, no need at all to rush a thing. She gave a little stretch, a pop of her neck which the ginger heard and glance around for the source. He saw nothing of course. He continued on his previous path, and the Jabberwocky resumed her perch. Watching. Waiting. Gathering what information she could on the town's inhabitants. After all, if you're going to play a game it's best to know what all the pieces can do. And, more importantly, what they can do to each other.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So this chapter got away from me a bit and kind of became a little between-part thing. The next will have a lot more dialogue and more proper interactions. By the way, I very much welcome reviews. I see it all so well in my head I often slip up in explaining things properly, so if there is ever anything not clear enough please do let me know so I may correct it. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

-**Chapter 4: I'll show you mine if you show me yours**-

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> here is where things pick up. Note that this chapter is going to be (loosely) based on an old rp I had with crickettherapy over on tumblr. They are seriously amazing and wonderful and awesome and if you like Archie I seriously recommend you give them a follow.

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><p>He knew something was wrong the moment his keys inserted into the lock of his apartment. Silence lingered, he heard no excited scratching or eager whine on the other side of the door to beg him to enter all the quicker. Immediately he had thoughts of something being wrong with his faithful companion, with Pongo within, was the dog ill? Had there been some accident or medical calamity while Archie had been away? The lock clicked out of place and he was all but shouting the name even as the door swung open.<p>

"Pongo?" he was so concerned for his furry friend he didn't even bother to close the door, shuffling in and quickly tossing aside the umbrella and keys. Everything was in place, it didn't seem there had been a break in. He was already rushing towards the bedroom to see if Pongo was there when a voice cut through his worry. Feminine, low, thick and sultry. Yet venomous. The hairs stood on the back of his neck as her realized the voice came from his own sofa, head turning slowly to face the intruder.

"How sickly sweet. Concerned for the beast?"

A woman was sitting on his sofa, wearing a gray suit with pencil skirt, long and smooth brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Her legs crossed and poise relaxed, she looked well put together and ordinary enough on first glance, but he knew exactly the situation when he found her eyes. Bracing himself, his own voice managed some anger to the question.

"Where is my dog?" what had she done? Archie was not a violent man by any means. On the contrary, as the town therapist he was very quick to reason and understanding, and very slow to anger. All the same, at the thought of someone hurting Pongo he found his hands closing into fists all the quicker when the woman laughed at the question.

"Your animal fled. Most do in my presence." she spoke it so casually, clearly having no emotions for his four legged companion. Archie was able to relax some, knowing Pongo was at least safe. Everyone in town knew where he belonged, and he had tags as well. No doubt someone would bring him home the following day, if Pongo didn't return on his own.

That just left dealing with this woman in his living room. His posture still guarded, but not aggressive by any means, he studied the way her own confident focus remained fixed to him, likewise sizing him up. He'd never seen her around before, and slowly anxiety began to give way to curiosity. Most animals flee in her presence. He couldn't place any particular fairy tale which might clue him in, though it was warning enough that she could very well be dangerous.

"I can't say I remember meeting you before. Is there a reason for your visit?" She smiled, and he got the distinct impression the lips would look more natural with pointed teeth nestled between them.

"No, you wouldn't. Oh yes. I hear you fix people." her head tilted to the side, eyes unable to refrain from flitting over every inch of him in rapid succession.

Great. Every therapists worst nightmare, having a patient break into their home. And she wasn't even his patient.

"Fix is a strong word," he sighed, removing his glasses to rub the place between his eyes briefly before replacing them. He would not be intimidated. Not in his own home. He finally removed his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack and closing the door left ajar. He never for a second felt her gaze waver from him.

"I don't fix people, I help them." he corrected, turning back to face her.

"Is that why you're here? Do you want help with something?" he kept it generic enough. Many people could be reluctant even within their attempts to receive aid, and he certainly didn't have any intentions of upsetting her with assumptions before she had even clarified if she was indeed here for anything of the sort.

"Noooooo," the voice was sing song and dripped with manic instability, "I'm here to see this magic of yours. You show me yours and I'll show you mine." never mind how neatly she was dressed. Never mind how flawless her hair or makeup. Every syllable she uttered, every twitch of movement which deviated form her otherwise statuesque pose, the roll of her head as she waited. Who ever this was, her mannerisms spoke loudly of madness. He would be lying if he said it didn't make him uncomfortable, if the entire situation as a whole didn't make his skin crawl. Generally those he saw were considerably more, well, they were nothing like this. He took a breath to calm his nerves, moving forward at a slow easy pace.

"I don't know what magic you're talking about." he confessed, and wasn't so sure he wished to see her own if he were being honest.

"If you don't have magic, then how do you fix people?" he cringed at the word usage again.

"I told you, I don't fix people," at last he took a seat on his own sofa, on the far end from her, "I help them. People come to me, they talk to me, and I listen." her head tilted all the farther, all but resting on her shoulder as she pondered the words he spoke.

"No," her face settled on disappointment, "I suppose you don't." before she was smiling again. Just as before, he was unable to prevent himself from thinking the expression was unnerving. Before he could speak again she was continuing.

"I am known...as the Jabberwocky." and she seemed more than proud enough of the title, though he had to confess it took him a moment to place it. She was not, it seemed, from the Enchanted Forest at all.

"From Wonderland?" that might have explained the instinctive unease he felt around her. Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite and claws that catch! Or so the poem went, if he remembered it correctly. He couldn't rightfully say it was only ever a silly nonsensical poem, as they themselves were all from various fairy tales of this land. It was not entirely unreasonable at all, if the Enchanted Forest and Neverland were real, that Wonderland existed as well. It would also easily explain the distinct sense of madness that she radiated. We're all mad here, hadn't the Cheshire Cat said?

"Aaaaah, so you have heard of it? My reputation must follow as well?" he could tell she was trying to give a friendly tone of voice ans expression, though she couldn't quite manage. She even scooted closer to him. If he didn't know an better he might say the movement was flirtatious, but then he didn't know her and she certainly didn't seem stable so far. Before he knew it she had closed the space between them and was leaning in with interest.

"What have you heard?" he knew the heat must have been rising in his cheeks and neck, clearing his throat and trying in vain to put some amount of distance between them as he spoke.

"Well, the illustration which came with the book was hardly that of a woman." he confessed.

"Was I more monstrous?" she didn't wait for him to answer, "Oh yes, of course I was." her hand moved up towards his face, and he couldn't help but flinch as the uninvited hand cupped the side of his face and forced him to face her again. Forcing, and yet somehow a gentle touch simultaneously. He was very quickly going to remove the hand and demand his personal space be respected, but her next words held something he would expect from no monster. Sorrow. Reserved, but still sorrow.

"Monsters aren't born. We're made. The product of a cruel world..." she trailed off, and as she did her neck twisted away from him and the hand dropped.

She had to be here for help, of some kind. Perhaps she wasn't aware yet that it had been her reason for seeking him out, but then he had never been the kind to turn someone down. It wasn't in his nature. Still, this would have to be handled delicately. He was already putting together the pieces. Jabberwocky, from Wonderland. Madness would be expected, if what he had read were true, though he knew the stories of this world left much out and misinterpreted other things. She accepted the title of monster readily, but there was a reason behind the title. A cruel world- wait she wasn't even his patient. Curiosity is going to kill the cat, or the cricket as the case may be here. He cleared his throat before making to speak again.

"I know it must be terribly confusing, coming to a new world so very different from your own." her head tilted as she glanced back to him but she didn't interrupt this time.

"Let alone to one inhabited by so many different people not from your land. I can't say I know personally anyone else claiming to be from Wonderland. I would be more than happy to help you adjust to these changes, but there are rules which need to be followed." There. Of course he would help if he could, but he had to be firm as well. He couldn't just let her walk all over him. She was looking at him now as if he'd grown a second head.

"Rules?" he nodded once. "Yes I suppose so. Name. Them." Now he provided her with a smile. For being a self-proclaimed monster this was going fairly well. But then people like Gold and Regina called themselves monsters all the time, and while progress for both would be difficult he was always certain they had it in them to be more if they so chose. Though neither of them would really use his services properly, let alone to the full advantage. If anything he had more hope for the Jabberwocky in this moment, if she was indeed seeking to adjust already and on her own.

"The first rule, is that you should make an appointment to see me in my office. It's not appropriate to come to my home. The second rule, is personal space." here he would gently nudge her leg apart from his as she had remained nestled so snugly beside him.

Instead of moving away from him, a hand snapped up quicker than he could follow, nimble fingers curling around his throat. He barely had time to gasp before she was straddling him, and he felt the distinctive tip of five claws threatening to press into his skin.

"You misunderstand." her words bit into him, tangible nips across the flesh beneath his clothes, he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut and felt a few stray tears slip down his cheeks, "I'm not here for your help." should he fight her? Her grasp loosened just enough to let him breath, she turned his head this way and that in her remaining grip. Could he fight her?

"Of course you can't fight me, you silly cricket." his eyes opened and doubled in size. Could she read his mind? Was that the power she had spoken of? If so, she didn't answer this last trail of thought.

"So here is my only rule. You will speak of my existence to no one, until I tell you that you may. You do not know me, as far as the rest of this town is concerned, until I say otherwise. If you break my rule I will know." She leaned in to purr the next in his ear, hair tickling his neck and face as she moved. "Then you will wish I were kind enough, to break your neck. That's not a threat," and then in the next instant she was gone entirely. He may as well have imagined the entire thing, but for the lingering voice which drifted back to him in her absence, "It's a promise."


	5. Chapter 5

Such a peculiar head she had found. All of the inhabitants of this abode, all she had ever encountered, had hidden depths of darkness to some degree. Some wore it with pride, and others hid it away in an attempt to seem better than they were. But everyone had it. Some inkling, some spark, wrong deeds and sinister desires. There were infants and children free of this, but the older one grew the more it grew beside them. She had seen it in all, including herself.

So what was this anomaly? The mind which she brushed and found to be so entirely empty? No, not empty entirely of fears or concerns, it had so much to fret about. But empty of darkness. She searched and she scanned and she tried to find it. She crept in through his window as he slept, chased the dog away with a glance, and ransacked the sleeping head. He did have something. Some small thing, which had caused the transformation to cricket. A single deed, in desperation to escape his parents and the misdeeds they had thrust upon him, which resulted in the loss of someone else. Kind people who did not deserve such a fate. Guilt riddled him for this action, but he had no way of knowing truthfully the outcome of what had been provided. There had been no genuinely malicious intent behind the deed.

She leaned over the now fitfully sleeping form and pondered the discovery. It couldn't be accurate, of course. There was no possible way it could be. Yet, if there were more here, she would know it, wouldn't she? This wasn't like the genie from before, she could read him perfectly. There was no possible way he could be hiding it, especially not in the dream ridden state of slumber. Frustration fueled her efforts to continue, night after night, until the nightmares her very presence caused lead him to avoid sleep altogether with aid of caffeine and extra unnecessary work.

"What are you, little cricket?" she mused the words from the rooftop across the way, watching him fight to remain awake and work upon his papers, the beast at his side letting out a whine for master's discomfort and earning a reassuring scratch behind ears. Picturesque scene, if one didn't know what was lurking behind it. She found herself pacing back and forth on the rooftop without intention or direction, pondering over what she had learned and more importantly what she would do with it. Even if it were true, who was to say it would remain this way? All good creatures would come to fall. All they needed was a push in the right direction. She paused and leaned on the edge of the roof, eyes narrowing on the window and claws leaving marks in the brick as her fingers curled. What, was she going to do with this?

Drawing in a breath, she released the brick in her grasp and stood up taller. Well, she was going to play with her food, obviously. With a terrible smirk, tongue ran over lips in the decision, and she moved down the wall and across the street. Very little could stand in her way, particularly when one left their windows unlocked, thinking they were safe at such a height. She didn't allow him to see her yet, the window flying open and what seemed to be a breeze intruding on the abode. The beast was barking at her already, Archie going to close the window as quickly as he was able and not sharing the perception of dog. Which was indeed silenced and chased from the room with little more than a smile from her and motion of finger to her lips.

"Pongo? Pongo come back! What's-" his words caught in his throat as she dropped the perception deception, allowing him to see her smiling and sitting upon his table, legs crossed and perfectly comfortable.

"You!" it was a breath, intermingled emotions of anger for the intrusion and absolute terror with the realization of reality.

"Did you think I was a dream, my dear cricket?" such an idea clearly amused her. He didn't respond. He gapped at her, wheels in that head of his turning, and stiffened when she moved so quickly to stand behind him and curl and arm around his chest. Claws plucked at the fabric of his shirt, breaking neither it nor flesh. Yet.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" when he found the means to move it was to brush off her arm, squirm out of the loose grasp she had provided. He felt the terror, but as many others he refused to let it dominate him. At the very least he refused to yield easily, though she suspected he would learn given time. For the moment she remained in place, towering over him and smiling very much the way a cat would to a mouse. She felt the vibrations of shiver sent up his spine before he managed to speak.

"What do you want?" She couldn't tell if the weary tone was due to actual sleep deprivation or emotional fatigue, "You said last time you didn't want my help. So why are you here?" now she began a slow circle of the room, allowing him to ponder it out instead of answering the inquiry.

"Guess."

"Guess? Is this some kind of game?"

"Perhaps." He was pinching the space between his eyes now, beneath the wire of his glasses, forcing himself to take deep breathes.

"Whatever you have planned for this world-" here she cut him off, leaning down to press her nose to his and making him back away with a startled squeak. Her eyes must have reflected the tsunami within, because it sparked his terror a new as she pressed through grit teeth,

"You dare lump me with them?" now her circle around him was concise and hurried, she knew he held his breath as she moved, "Regina? Gold? The names whispered in the minds of this world with reverence when the truth is-" her words came swift and manic, but then she too drew in a breath and forced them down with a mad smile. When she spoke again it regained the deceptively maternal notes. "And just what, am I planning?" she retook her seat, which allowed him both breathing room and some semblance less of intimidation. Some. He very wisely realized the danger she presented even as he fought to keep an even tone.

"I don't know," nervous lick of lips, "but if I were to guess from your behavior so far it can't be good." Her eyes narrowed above the smile. It was very true. A creature like her could have nothing good in mind indeed. Instead of addressing that she changed the topic.

"You are a very interesting creature." She had to laugh at the surprise that flew over his features.

"I-I don't know what you mean." Blush crept over his face and he looked away, the entire amount of skin showing growing warm pink.

"The darkness. It resides in all, all I have encountered. But you." More astonishment, the blush fading and disbelief taking hold. No, not just that, shame. His voice lowered, as if she were deliberately picking the flesh from his bones the way she had so many others. She wasn't even in his head right now, she hadn't opened that door containing his inner terrors and let them flood his mind. From his posture, she may as well have cracked it open, without any genuine use of her abilities at all. Interesting.

"That's not true. If you can read minds, you know that's not true."

"I don't read minds," she corrected quickly, feeling absolutely no threat at all for giving him this information, "I read fears." The reveal was not wasted on him, it was obvious he tucked it away into all the other calculations he had running.

"Then you know, even I-"

"Yes, the puppets and the thefts." She said it so frankly he flinched, opening his mouth to explain why that meant she was wrong but getting interrupted again, "There was no malicious intent."

He was calming now, gradually moving to take a seat as he pondered a response. Perhaps he was giving up on those rules he had tried to establish earlier after all. It was very clear he couldn't enforce them.

"Intentions don't negate results." Poooooor cricket, he sounded so wounded. Someone pulled off his wings.

"They made you do it. Then the Dark One tricked you."

"Yes, but I could have left them. I could have resisted, refused. And I think somewhere deep down I knew all along the Dark One was a bad idea." Only then did it occur to him what was happening in the conversation, "why am I talking to you about this?" Her smile returned with a ruffle of shoulders and a purring response,

"Why, because it weighs on you. That's just the kind of cricket you are. So burdened by mistake, that you spend the rest of your life making up for it."

"And what kind of person are you?"

"I'm not." Perhaps the answer was too quick, too sure of itself, her gaze once more aggressive before it cooled again.

A silence settled between them. She let it rest. He was playing the game. He would play the game. She was certain of it. Did he know that to refuse would bring death, swift and eternal? Did he decide to play in order to satiate his own curiosity? In the end she supposed the reasons didn't matter, she would have her entertainment all the same. Not that he was the kind to appreciate being reduced to such a concept. Oh no, she imagined saying that out loud would downright offend him.

"You didn't answer the question. What do you want?"

"What do you want?"

"This isn't about me."

"Yes, it is."

"I very much doubt-"

"I could invade any home, you know. I go where I please, I do as I please, I visit who I please when I please. There are none in this world who can stop me. I chose to come here. This, is about you my dear cricket." He didn't like that. He didn't like the nickname and he didn't like her presence and he didn't like her words.

"I'm sorry but I simply can't believe that."

"You may believe whatever you like."

Another lingering pause. Silence. After some time he gave in and answered the question.

"I want to help you." Her head titled. He would, wouldn't he? It was what he did. It was all that he did. Sad little bug, spending his life seeing to the needs of everyone else. Everyone but himself.

"Who says I want help?"

"I don't think you'd be here if you didn't." was that thought a comfort to him? She decided to let it sit for the time.

"And just what do I want help with?" he shook his head.

"I don't know yet." But he aimed to find out? She bristled at the thought. It wasn't that she found the notion threatening, only peculiar.

"I'm willing to work with you, I am, but could you please, please stop coming into my home? I don't know how things are done in Wonderland but we don't just go into other people's homes uninvited here."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes!"

"I'll consider your request."

Before he could say anything else, the window was left open again and she was back outside upon the rooftops. His fear tasted like freshly cut grass, it wasn't very good at all. But his entertainment value, now that was a thing to be kept around for. The Jabberwocky had all the time in the world, and knew the value of a slow burn. _I want to help you_. Nonsense. What could the Jabberwocky possibly need help with? She had all the power in the world. She had her freedom. The Vorpal Blade was safely hidden away. She could have whatever she wanted. So what did she want?


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** a guest posted a review on the last one I wanted to address, noting parallels between Jabbers and Rumples. There ARE quite a few, since Jabberwocky is cannon for the Wonderland series (so it's all the same canon). She isn't controlled by the blade, but the vorpal blade is the only thing that can stop and imprison her. Unlike Rumples she doesn't do a lot of magic, her "magic" seems to be more natural and limited specific abilities. The "monsters aren't born, they're made" is a direct quote from her in the show. Also, for those interested and who don't mind ending spoilers for Wonderland series (she doesn't appear until the end), all of Jabber's appearances are on youtube. She only has a few 2-4 minute appearances, but they are all AMAZING. Just search OUAT Jabberwocky and you'll find several. Her voice is downright deviously delectable.

Since there is so little known about her and the series got canceled, I've built her a back story you'll be privy to in pieces starting in this chapter. ;)

The next chapter will finally feature Rumples, so look forward to it!

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><p>Archie still hadn't gotten any more than a few hours of sleep in the last few days. His health was suffering for it, both mentally and physically, but he kept his few remaining appointments. After the third day with no reappearance form the nightmare who had seen fit to torment him, he decided he could no longer just wait around.<p>

"Jabberwocky?" he called out to the creature, half testing if she were indeed listening in, wondering if she would answer him.

"Are you there?" he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was being watched since her first appearance to him, but how much of that was reality and how much the delusions of a sleep depraved mind? An open copy of Alice and Through the Looking Glass each lay on his coffee table, but all he had been able to find was the single poem speaking of danger. It mentioned a blade, a Vorpal Blade, and he had to admit he drew the comparison to the Dark One's blade. Would Gold know something useful here? What would he have to pay for such knowledge? A shiver ran through him at the very idea of going to Gold for anything, especially after that first time. No, even if Gold had somewhat tempered out since coming here and since having Belle in his life, Archie wasn't so sure he wanted to deal with the man again.

His eyes drifted up to the clock. It was nearly time. He forced his tired muscle to comply, picking himself as well as the books up and grabbing his keys. Pongo perked up from his doggy bed, stretched and trotted over with a jingle of tags for his leash.

"No, I'll take you out later." He left the whining dog a treat instead, stepping out to lock the door.

It took him little time to reach the bus stop, getting there exactly as he planned, with the children unloading. There she was, Grace fleeing from the confines of the bus and running into the waiting arms of her father. He had been so proud of Henry for helping them reunite. He had been so proud of Henry in general, for who he had been growing into even without his help, and all the good he had done. For everyone in this town. The thoughts brought a smile to his lips, and a hesitation to his step. Should he be doing this? He needed answers, true, but at what expense? Would the Jabberwocky know he had spoken to them? Would it be angry? Even if he was very careful to give nothing away? Books in hand, he took a breath and forced the smile to remain as he approached.

"Excuse me?" he had heard Jefferson was suspicious, rightfully so if the Jabberwocky was any indication of a norm for Wonderland.

"Yes?" but the man was tempering his behavior and gripping tight his daughter's hand.

"Sorry, I don't think we've formally met before. I'm Archie Hopper, a friend of Henry's." He extended a hand, which was eyed cautiously instead of taken.

"The therapist?" he felt his face flush at the prompt tell,

"Yes, though that's not what I'm here for. I'm very much off the clock." He reassured and was granted a begrudging handshake for it and a curt,

"Jefferson. This is Grace." She at least didn't seem as put off, giving a smile and a nod though still clinging to her father's hand.

"Grace. It's very nice to meet both of you at last."

"Grace, why don't you wait for me in the car?" Jefferson smiled and handed her the keys, for which she took them and graciously complied. As soon as she was out of earshot Jefferson rounded on him.

"What do you want?"

"I don't mean any harm, there's no reason to-"

"Those books in your hand tell me otherwise. So let me make something perfectly clear. I've worked very hard to get out, and get my little girl back. If you do _anything_ to jeopardize my family…" he trailed off, but in his stepping closer Archie saw a familiar reflection in those eyes. Madness. The craze which he was starting to gather was very much an effect of Wonderland, if he had to guess. He knew this man could be dangerous, he had kidnapped Emma, and Archie had no doubts at all of what lengths he would go to in order to protect his child. He couldn't rightfully say he blamed him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," Archie was naturally more demure, tucking his head at the threats and stumbling over his words for a moment. Meek, "You're just the only one I've heard had been to Wonderland. I'll leave you alone." He agreed readily, he'd been on the fence about this whole thing to begin with. He turned to go, but was pulled back.

"Wait," a sigh, despite what he was capable of, Jefferson was no bully. Just protective, and worried, "if you're looking to get there let me at least warn you: it isn't worth it. No matter what you're looking for there, you don't want to be on that side of the looking glass. Better leave it alone." Archie glanced around, lowering his voice when he was satisfied he saw no one.

"What if what's on the other side doesn't stay there?" he whispered, and saw terror fly into the other man's eyes before his hardness could hide it. He mimicked the breathy tones,

"Who?"

"I can't say. I was hoping you might be able to clear up any…inaccuracies in the book?" there, he hadn't said a thing, and surely that alone wouldn't earn retribution? He held out the books in hope, Jefferson eyeing them wearily, deciding on if he should run then and there, but after a moment he took them.

"I'll leave some notes in them and drop them off at your place, as best I can. Give me a few days."

"Oh, of course! Thank you so much!" He gave another smile, which wasn't returned, and watched the man return to his car and drive away.

A few days. He could last a few more days, couldn't he? He turned to return home, a brisk chill on the air which made him clutch his jacket a bit closer. He was halfway home when he jumped at the feel of a slender arm lacing itself into his. _She was here_.

"Don't bother reacting, no one can see or hear me but you my dear." He could see her smiling at a couple of the dwarves they passed as if they could see her, as if the two of them were on little more than a casual stroll on a sunny afternoon. What did this mean? Had she seen the whole exchange? Was she angry? Would she hurt him? Worse, would she hurt Jefferson? _Or Grace_? Even though he forced himself to keep walking, these thoughts made it difficult to breath past the pain of guilt already growing in his chest.

"If you wanted to know more about Wonderland, all you had to do was ask." They were reaching the door to his office now, but his hands were shaking so much it took him what seemed like ages to grasp the key, and was having more difficulty getting it into the lock. Her talons closed over his wrist to steady it, hard enough that he was certain there may be bruises later, guiding the key to the lock and turning it for him before letting go. The door opened, but he just stood there, trying not to cry and too terrified to make his muscles move.

"What are you waiting for?" he tried to answer, but only a whimper escaped his lungs.

"I don't care much for children." The tone implied two meanings at once. She didn't care enough to harm Grace, but she also didn't care enough not to harm her if so inclined. It did nothing to ease his nerves.

"You're drawing attention to yourself, my dear." She already ran out of patience, giving a nudge on his shoulders to guide him inside and get his legs working. Once he was moving again, it came automatically. Climbing the stairs, moving to his apartment door, taking out the keys and unlocking that as well. He may as well have been walking to the gallows. Tried and sentenced to death. Who would find him? Who would take care of Pongo when he was gone? He couldn't help that he was crying by the time his door was unlocked and he was inside, the Wonderland Monstrosity following him as a silent specter the whole way in, and closing the door behind him.

"This is most disappointing." She sounded too much like his parents. Pongo had already run to hide, smart dog he was.

"I never told you I would kill you." She brushed past him, as usual making herself perfectly at home on his sofa.

"N-No. You said you'd do worse." He managed, removing his glasses to wipe at his face just in time to miss the devious smile she gave him for the affirmation.

"Indeed. But my cleaver little Cricket did perfectly well to keep just within what I've commanded. No harm done." So, she wasn't mad? He was working now to catch his breath, from both the tears and the nerves. She pat the place beside her.

"Come sit beside me, I'll tell you a story." His brow wrinkled with the effort to try to determine if there was indeed risk here, but he shuffled over and complied, for which he earned a smile he could barely catch from the corner of his eyes. He couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at her, taking slow deep breaths to recollect and keep his calm.

"It was a very long time ago. Longer even than any can rightly remember. In a land beyond this one, a place called Wonderland…"

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><p>As she spoke the words it painted the image in his mind. Tangible, colorful, he could almost reach out and touch it. Towering trees, so high he couldn't see their tops at all. Colorful mushrooms of all sizes decorating the lush green underbrush. The scenery was beautiful, the light filtering down from above and glow of things below assisting him in relaxing more quickly. The Tulgey Woods. And in these woods was a girl, plain and dressed in simple colors, bright of face and waiting beneath a large boulder cluster peeking out from the green. This was not the Jabberwocky, it was not the crazed and malicious creature drinking in terror with glint to her eyes. It was just a girl. She turned, at a sound of branch breaking, and her face lit up, rushing over to another dark haired youth, this one dressed in robes befitting those who practiced and studied the ways of magic, or alchemy, or any number of other things of this nature. Archie had to confess that so far, this world didn't seem too far different from the Enchanted Forest. The dark haired youth took her in his arms and swung her in a circle.<p>

"How are your studies finding you?"

"Very well, we're making much progress." Her face fell and voice grew hushed as she was set down,

"It's been spotted again, you know."

"I know. We're working as fast as we can. There's a sorcerer from another realm, he says he knows how we can do it. How we can stop this once and for all. We can put an end to the-"

"Don't say its name!" she covered his mouth before he could finish, but earned just a laugh for it.

"I am not afraid. Soon these trials will be over with, and the land will be at peace." She chewed her bottom lip, uncertain as he went on.

"If only…there is one problem." Silence lingered, and he wasn't fit to answer her questioning look.

"What?"

"We need someone for the ritual. I asked to volunteer myself, but they need me for the circle. I've been searching, but none have proven brave enough. I fear at this rate all our work will come to nothing." He sighed, slumping against the boulder and removing from his back the snack he had brought, a fruit not unlike an orange but far brighter and violet in color. He made quick work of peeling it as she sat beside him, and shared with her the segments.

"Can you find no one?"

"I have little doubts we will find one soon. We've only asked so many, there is surely someone who will wish for the chance at heroism." She held the segments offered, but didn't eat.

"I'll do it."

"What? You most certainly won't! I won't let you risk it!"

"You need someone, and it's my choice to make."

"You don't know what you're volunteering for, there are risks-" she let the food drop to her skirt and cupped his face with both of her hands.

"This whole time I've known you, this has been your sole purpose. This work. I won't let it end here, not when you're so close!" his hand came up to her wrist, thumb stroking lightly the skin there,

"I couldn't ask you-"

"You don't have to." She noticed then the closeness, pulling away with red cheeks and nibbling on the fruit.

"I've made up my mind. You wouldn't let anything hurt me." He didn't sound as confident as she did, but he gave a nod.

"I'll tell the others. We should have everything ready at the tower in two days' time."

"I shall be there."

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><p>The images faded, and soon he was back on the sofa, the world which had been granted fading away to smoke.<p>

"Wait, what happens next?"

"The rest I will tell you, on another day." He did look at her now, and for only a moment he saw beneath the madness and terror. She hadn't always had that, she had been human once. Human and ready to risk it all in some kind of ritual, what he gathered was to put an end to something unnamed terrorizing the land. What had gone wrong? What had caused her to become what sat here now? She called herself a monster. She tormented him, she pushed him around, she insisted this was all for fun and she wanted nothing from him. But if that were true, why would she share this?

"I would like very much to hear the rest." His words and interest were earnest. Just because she was reluctant, or wouldn't admit it, he was certain now she had come to him for help after all. Perhaps she didn't notice it yet herself.

"Did you have a different name then?"

"I don't remember it. I have only the title." Title? Jabberwocky, he guessed.

"You could chose a name, if you wanted to." The idea evidently hadn't occurred to her.

"Why would I need a name?"

"Something more personal to be called by? Something you chose? I suppose if you don't mind just Jabberwocky-"

"It is a touch unusual for this land, isn't it?" she grinned, no doubt making the same connection he did. She was unusual for this land as well, though then he supposed in a way they all would be in their own rights.

"You weren't here for the curse, you weren't given a name and job for this world." He rose and felt her eyes follow him sharply, moving to his bookshelf and withdrawing a large tome. The compiled works of Shakespeare. He held it out for her and she took it in puzzled expression.

"I chose Pongo's name from a book, but for you a think a body of work more…dignified." She flipped through the pages, and he wasn't sure if she was idly flipping or actually able to read that quickly. He wouldn't be entirely surprised by the later. When she had flipped through the entire tome once, she flipped back through the pages again and gave pause, entire focus on the text before her.

"Imogen."

Imogen? He recalled the tale from which she claimed the name, a curious choice, had she truly read it through or was she simply taking a name which jumped out at her? Or was she attempting to communicate some other meaning there?

"It's a lovely choice." He smiled instead of asking or commenting on any of this. His home almost felt like his own again for this interaction, it almost felt like he was making progress, reclaiming his role as therapist if slightly. She snapped the book shut with a single hand and held the tome out for him to retake, rising from the couch.

"Imogen, before you go," he tested the name and her gaze flicked over her shoulder back at him, "Have you been…I don't mean to blame of course, it's just…I haven't been able to sleep well since your arrival. Are you in some way responsible for that?"

"Probably." She spoke it so casually, absolutely indifferent to the effects it was having over him or the bags growing beneath his eyes. He couldn't help but get a bit frustrated, barely reigning that emotion in,

"Well, could you please stop it then? I need my sleep, if this goes on much longer I won't be much good to anyone. Least of all you." Evidently this line of thought was as puzzling as everything else he thought obvious in mentioning.

"You need sleep?"

"Yes! You…don't?"

"No."

"Oh. Well," how to explain this, "Most people here do. Lack of sleep can have a terrible toll on our emotions, even our bodies. Our health begins to fail, I'm certain we can even die if we go long enough without rest." Her head tilted, this information evidently very new for her, though the calculating look in her eyes made him wince and suspect he might have accidentally given her a new torture method. Not that she hadn't proved more than able to use it without suggestion.

"I see. Very well. Until next I see you." And she was gone. For the first time since she had appeared to him that day, he felt the watchful sensation grow distant, and then leave altogether. Soon Pongo slipped out from his hiding spot to beg attention. Archi hadn't expected her to comply. She didn't sleep? Did she genuinely assume he didn't need it either? He had been fairly certain she was behind it, and fairly certain it was deliberate, but now he wasn't so sure. She seemed genuinely perplexed. Did she truly not know any better? And if so, what else was a case of misunderstanding?

With a sigh he removed his glasses and Pongo jumped up on the couch to lick at his face affectionately, which did much to ease what little nerves remained. He almost wished she would come back then so he could figure out more, but knew she would return only on her own time. He was beginning to suspect that, like Gold, maybe she wasn't truly as terrible as she wanted people to think. How much of all of this was for show? He glanced down at his wrist she had grabbed earlier, and saw no developing bruises. It must have been his imagination at the time, the fright she had given. Or had he worked himself into that fright on his own? He shook his head for the time, taking comfort in the warm fur settled in beside him, and resigning himself to get some rest. He felt oddly hopeful, after the events of that day. Hopeful not only that this wasn't the end all be all terrible situation he had come to think it was (though it would certainly be difficult), and hopeful that when he went to talk to Gold, perhaps it would go well after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** super sleepy late night writing yay. Probably has flaws. Too tired to care. Woop, here a short something.

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><p>The bell over the shop door let out a pleasant little ring as the customer entered. He'd never been in this shop. He had no good reason to be and every good reason not to be, even when they had all been under the effects of the first curse. To say he was nervous would be a bit of an understatement, but he pushed it down. Belle was at the front of the shop, up on a step ladder to put some merchandise away.<p>

"I'll be with you in a moment." She called over her shoulder.

"Oh no rush." Archie was admittedly glad to be speaking with Mrs. Gold first, smiling to himself as he remembered marrying the two. Despite how small the wedding had been, the fact that they could have a happy ending all the same, despite everything, could give hope to anyone.

"Oh, Archie!" she was quick to come down the ladder and return the smile, greeting him with a small hug which he was all too happy to return.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, well enough." The lie came perhaps a bit too easily off his lips, not wanting to spoil an otherwise pleasant mood.

"How is life as Mrs. Gold?" a flush girlish flush found her cheeks,

"We couldn't be happier."

"That's wonderful." These were the kinds of interactions he had missed in the last week, when he'd been avoiding people in partial fear of what might happen to them. He wanted to talk to people. He wanted to greet them in the mornings and see their smiling faces.

"Oh, is there something I can help you with? We don't see you here often."

"No, we certainly don't." Mr. Gold, stepping out into the main shop from the back. He spared a smile, despite being known for not having the cheeriest outlook. Perhaps marriage could have such an effect on even him.

"Actually, I was hoping you might have some time to talk. I've come across a piece of information, but I can't seem to find anything more on it. I was hoping one of you might know something?" Belle answered first, her face immediately scrunching into concentration.

"Um, sure. I mean, I could take a look." She glanced back hopeful to her husband, who seemed less interested but afforded his wife a smile and nod.

"I must confess to being curious." For just a moment, he sounded to Archie like the old Gold. Like Rumples had in the other land. It was just his mind playing tricks on him, he reminded himself. Things were different now. He was different.

"Well I found this, I know the stories in this land can be…inaccurate." He unfolded the copy of Jabberwocky and handed it over.

"Oh, I know this book. Though I can't say I know much about Wonderland." She glanced to her husband instead, handing him the poem.

"Didn't you mention it once?"

"Oh Wonderland was a very real place," he confirmed, turning over the poem, "but I'm afraid I can't help you. Never been there myself." He held it out to be reclaimed by a disappointed cricket.

"Oh. That's quite alright. No harm in asking" he hoped.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be of much help."

"If you ever find yourself in need of a gift or souvenir…" Mr. Gold added.

"I'll be sure to stop by. Thanks for your time." He gave another smile and tucked the poem away into his wallet as he returned home. No luck. If Gold or Belle didn't know anything, he doubted anyone else would. And he couldn't exactly say more than it was a passing fancy. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the other man walking until he collided with him.

"Oy! Watch where you're going!"

"Oh, sorry." Wait, didn't he know that man? He had seen him looking a bit worse for wear not long ago. He glanced back at him but he was already hurrying away. No matter. Archie wouldn't notice his wallet was missing until he reached home, and the thief was long gone.

* * *

><p>"I've been expecting you, deary."<p>

"Have you?" the dark voice seeped out from the shadows and ran along his skin, but he wasn't bothered. He sent Belle home early, he was staying to close the shop for the evening.

"Ever since a certain cricket came in with poem in your name." the laughter which echoed through the shop was sharp enough that he had genuine concern for the glass display case and fineries.

"If you break it you buy it." The laughter stopped. Out stepped an imposing figure are least two heads taller than himself, though it was dressed (much as himself) in professional enough attire. A gray woman's suit-skirt that did little to hide the truth in her eyes.

"Well, if it isn't the legendary Jabberwocky."

"Dark One." He gave a little flourish of a bow, that was still only half of what it had been in the Enchanted Forest and lacked that signature giggle.

"In the flesh."

"But not the flesh I encountered." She was circling around him now, he refused to be intimidated, "Same energy, different body."

"Yes, well, the old one retired."

"Retired? I see." She drifted to the glass counter, talons rapping across the top in swift successions breifly.

"What brings you to our fine town of Storybrooke?"

"Wonderland grew tiresome. I needed fresh scenery."

"So you don't have any plans for your visit?" her gaze flicked back over to him. He was fishing.

"Nothing which would need to cause _you_ concern."

"Ah, see that's where I'm not so certain. You see, I do have plans for this town. And from what I've heard about _you_, you're not known for playing so well with others." Despite his accusation, the Jabberwocky gave a smile.

"And what, pray tell, have you heard about me? You do know how old those legends are, don't you?"

"Yes, but many legends hold grains of truth." She didn't dignify that with an answer, head turning away to examine all the nick knacks instead.

"I have no interest in getting in your way, so long as you return the favor. One monster to another." He opened his mouth to argue the title, but a swift stern gaze made him reconsider. It was pointless to lie to her.

"Well then, welcome to Storybrooke. If you find yourself in need of residence, you're looking at the land owner of most deeds in town."

"That's quite alright, though the offer is appreciated. Actually, you have something I want." His interest was immediately peaked.

"Oh, so it's a shopping trip then? I notice you lack pockets. You do know this world's exchange rate-"

"The pieces of paper, yes. Worthless. I understand you prefer favors."

"From the right people, yes. Just what is it you were interested in?" he blinked, and she was holding in her arms the two old puppets who had once been people.

"These." The significance of the earlier visit, in combination with this request, wasn't lost on him.

"Just what game are you playing with our residential therapist?"

"That's my business."

"And far be it from me to pry. One favor, of my choosing, from the Jabberwocky?" she gave a nod, and it was enough for him, for the two souvenirs collecting dust. He couldn't ask for a better exchange rate.

"We have ourselves a deal."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Some more background info and another Cricket view point chapter. Had to take a break due to mid-terms. Back to the grind. Next chapter will be Jabbers and another town member. Either Belle or Henry. I'm still deciding. May also feature a small appearance by Blue.

Yaaaay psychological evaluations. **And I'm curious what people are thinking so far? Let me know?**

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><p>"It's you!" Archie noticed his wallet was missing shortly after he arrived home. He had Pongo on leash and was heading down to both take his dog for a walk while the day remained nice enough, and to report the wallet missing while he was at it. Before he could fully get out the door though, the man he had brushed by earlier was standing in front of the building holding up the missing article.<p>

"You dropped this, mate." Pongo was quick to sniff at the stranger with tail wagging, retreating when he earned a tug and command to sit.

"I was just going to report it missing." He smiled and took back his property, noting silently it felt a bit lighter than he remembered but not wanting to jump to conclusion just yet.

"This fell out." The other man held between index and middle finger the folded poem Archie had brought to shop earlier, and he knew that tone more than well enough. It had bothered the other man, even if his face remained casual.

"What's got you so interested in that old bit, I wonder?"

"I was just…curious." His own inflections matched what he'd been given, as he reached to take the poem back. Careful.

"You know she don't bloody well look like that, don't ya?" She. There was only one way he could know that. Archie gripped the leash a little tighter, knowing he'd found someone else who'd been to Wonderland. Someone, perhaps, a little more inclined to share?

"Well, if you happen to know something, I'd love to learn more. Slate my curiosity. You could come up for some tea if you like. Or coffee, if you prefer."

"Right mate, bit busy. But I suppose I could spare a minute. Don't mind if I do." Well that seemed easy enough, though it earned a bark of protest from Pongo when they turned around.

"I'm sorry Pongo, I promise we'll go on an extra long walk after our guest departs. And I'll give you a t-r-e-a-t for your patience." He smiled down to the dog, opening the door for their new guest (who he made mental note to watch for a case of sticky fingers, though if the information he received helped he wouldn't mind the amount he felt missing from his wallet).

They returned up the stairs and to his apartment, and though Pongo got his treat the dog resigned to take it and retreat to his bed with a touch of a sulk.

"I don't believe I got your name. I'm Archie."

"Will." Will made himself very comfortable, very quickly, "And tea would be great, thanks." Archie nodded and did what he could to watch Will from the corner of his eye as he put the kettle on and pulled down the mugs. He was beginning to suspect that all Wonderlanders had a penchant for lacked manners.

"You said the Jabberwocky was a she?" he could play dumb enough to get the conversation going, Imogen had not said anything against others filling him in.

"Well, looked like one anyhow, this drawing suits better though."

"I've got some apple pie here from Grannys?" it was actually kind of nice to have someone over who he could play a bit of host for.

"You treat all your guests like this we may never leave." Will gave jest and didn't seem all that bad for it, just a bit rough around the edges. It was a good smile he gave, one you couldn't help but want to see more of.

"I'll take that as a yes. So is she really as scary as the poem makes it seem?" he divided up the portions and brought out the plates, setting one in front of Will who took it up and wasted no time inhaling the portion. He spoke between mouthfuls.

"Scarier! Good thing Jafar locked that thing away again. Put it right where it belongs, you ask me. You going to finish that?" Archie shook his head and slid the second plate over to him. Jafar? Locked away?

"Even the legends were bad, but the real thing?" he gave a whistle that made Pongo's ears perk to attention and inch closer in want of a scrap from the plate.

"I'm afraid I don't know the legends. That was all I could find." Archie gave a warning snap and Pongo put his head back down to his paws, halting on the advance.

"The legends went, that thing was a nightmare alright. The king wanted it gone, but every army he sent just got slaughtered. It was more powerful than any army. Until one lone hero emerged, wielding a Vorpal Blade. A lot of folks lost their lives that day and it still couldn't kill the creature, but it could imprison it. They locked it away in a tower, and if we're lucky that's where it is now."

"What would happen if it ever got out?"

"Well someone would need to find that blade. Or a lot of people would die." Archie was frowning now, forgetting to watch the thief more closely as he contemplated all of this.

"But were the legends really true? What if the Jabberwocky was just…well what if-"

"I met that monster. Not a face I'd want to encounter again." The whistle of the kettle pierced the apartment, making Archie turn to take the heat off. He heard the front door open and a quick "thanks for the pie", turning in time to catch the door close. Well, no sense in tea now. With a sigh he set the water aside, hearing the tags jingle as Pongo trotted in. He gave the dog a scratch and a smile. At least the rest of the day had gone pretty well.

"Come on Pongo, I owe you that walk."

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><p>He could feel the concrete slab beneath him, hard on his spine and against his resting skull. When his fingers gripped at the material, he could feel something carved into that stone. Swirls, symbols he didn't know, the entire block must have been covered. All around him he could hear voices murmuring, glancing up to see the circle of figures. Five men, three women, all dressed in comfortable clothes which befit their profession. He didn't know the words they spoke, only the intense unblinking focus on him and the distinctive tingle of energy in the air. He didn't say a thing. Not one sound escaped him. He was too afraid of disrupting whatever task they were about.<p>

Or at least, he thought he was afraid. But that was before the _thing_ began to grow above him, something pulled and yanked in and compiling itself above him. Darkness, flecks of green within it, it sucked the warmth from the room and left ice in his veins. It let out a scream, or what he could only guess was a scream, which shook the very stone walls around them and cracked the ground beneath their feet. Still the magic wielders worked, chanted so diligently. The darkness lowered, lowered, lowered, crying out all the while, until it was pressed over him and crawling inside of him. Every inch of flesh, every cell, every muscle tensing and twitching and fighting the intrusion until he could see nothing. Feel nothing. There was only darkness. Silence. He was alone in the void, but no longer afraid. Numb. Numb to everything, but the burning hunger which crept upon him.

"We've done it," he vaguely heard the voice as his vision began to return, the primal need in the pit of his stomach quickly driving out all other reason, "We've stopped the Jabberwcoky."

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><p>Archie woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat and fists clutching the sheets beneath him. Just a dream. Another nightmare. It wasn't real. He sat up in bed and reached for his glasses with a sigh.<p>

"Intense, isn't it?" her voice made him jump to turn on the lamp, heart skipping a beat as he turned to find her. Sitting perfectly composed on the edge of his bed.

"Imogen? What are you," he clutched the blankets closer to his chest in embarrassment for the intrusion, "what have I told you about personal space? We don't just go into other people's rooms here while they're sleeping." She didn't answer him. Just stared with that partially narrowed gaze above an ever predatory smile. Instead of a shiver a sigh escaped him.

"I thought you said you would stop-"

"I gave you two whole days. I thought you wanted to know what happened next?"

"I do, but perhaps not so…how did you even do that?"

"A sleeping mind is open to all sorts of things." The grin was the stark opposite of reassuring, he had no interest in taking the bait to ask what other sorts of things she was implying.

"I really wish you'd make an appointment. Give me any kind of notice before you simply show up."

"Notice? What an unusual request. You people here truly are _strange_." Her gaze grew distant again, and it was very evident she had no intention of leaving.

"Well if we're going to be up at-" he checked the clock hanging on the wall, "three am, I'm going to need some coffee." He grumbled to himself, grabbing his dressing robe and being thankful he at least had slept in pajamas. Still he slid the robe on and only offered out of habit, "Are you going to want a cup as well?"

"I don't drink." No, of course she didn't.

He half expected her to remain perched in her spot. When she didn't he pretended not to notice her gliding behind him as he went to the kitchen to start the brew. His very own apartment apparition.

"I met another Wonderlander today." Or yesterday he should say.

"Will is not a Wonderlander." As she had in every room her attention wondered over every detail of the tiny apartment kitchen as well, filled with just as many odds and ends as the rest of the spaces he inhabited. If he were honest, he had no idea about most of the clutter's meaning. He had inherited it all in the curse, the false life Regina had woven for him as she had woven lives for all the town members. He took an odd comfort in the items, accustomed to them. He wondered as he put on the coffee if Imogen didn't find the same kind of ease there.

"I never mentioned a name for my visitor."

"You don't have to." He had the genuine sense it would be impossible to hide anything at all from her. At first this had terrified him, in no small part because of the violence she had threatened should he step out of line. Yet she hadn't truly hurt him. Not deliberately. Not in retaliation for the boundaries he had pushed. She could be unstable, that much was very true, but around him at least he got the impression she was genuinely trying. Or perhaps he was simply growing more comfortable around her.

"What do you mean, he's not a Wonderlander?"

"Not native born. An outsider come to my world, imposing their rules and values upon it." She had lifted one of the dirty mugs for a closer look, but the more she spoke the tighter her grip on the object became. He was about to try and take it from her, but as he reached for it the object shattered in her grip, "Poison. Sabotage. Violation." The words came in a flurry, she didn't even notice the glass was broken until that fury passed as quickly as it came.

"Oh." Was all she said, putting the broken object back in the place it had occupied on the counter. For a long moment he remained rooted to the spot, gaze on the broken ceramic. She hadn't even flinched. This was just another example of not knowing her own strength, a fact which would make little difference if he were to be on the receiving end of that rage.

"What's the matter, my cricket?"

"I'm," he didn't want to say the wrong thing, and there was no point in hiding the fear in the back of his mind so he settled for changing the subject, "Just what is the Jabberwocky?" she raised a brow and he went on, even forced a smile, "I mean before what you've shown me." She mirrored the smile offered.

"There is nothing to fear, but fear itself."

"Fear?"

"Oh yes. In the flesh. The Terror of Wonderland." It was all beginning to make sense now.

"That's why you read fears? Why you don't sleep? Drink? Eat?" she only let her smile widen. No wonder she viewed herself as a monster. How could she not given these facts? And that dream, the memory made him shudder and grip the counter with one hand for stability.

"But, the hunger?" it was already fading from his memory, but for that single moment it had been perfectly tangible. Like most dreams, when he awoke it was already smoke. Nothing he could hold onto, little more than a fuzzy sensation which was quickly fading. He felt a cold hand cup his face and flinched back. Her grip was stronger, keeping him in place. No, pulling him closer and letting the other hand rest at his lower back.

"Did you know fears have a taste? Yours is freshly cut grass." She was still smiling down at him. Despite the dread which radiated so naturally out from her, which froze his blood in that very moment, he couldn't deny the odd stir of emotions for simply being clutched close to a woman. Monstrous though she might be, he was still distracted by the curves pressing against him, mistaking the hand on his face for genuine affection even if it was more forceful than he would truthfully like. She breathed at least, never mind the rest. He could feel that breath over his lips as she stared down at him, and for only a moment he thought the hunger from the nightmare was creeping back upon him. Was she doing that? The tightness in the pit of his stomach was similar, but it wasn't quite the same. It felt more like-

No. What was he thinking?

"Imogen,"

"Yes?" she couldn't mean the appetite in that single word. He had to be projecting.

"The coffee is ready. I should get a glass." A lame excuse for movement, her smile faded though she let him move from her just in time for him to keep things from getting anymore awkward than they already were. His hands trembled as they found the mug and poured the dark liquid, hoping she wouldn't notice his physical reaction to the closeness provided and glad for the thick robe tide about him. He sipped the bitter brew black and couldn't quite look back at her yet. Instead he remembered the tale from earlier.

"He said, according to the legends anyways, they sent whole armies after you. I don't understand why when you volunteered for the position. Weren't you all working towards peace?"

"It was a dream, and like all good dreams it came to an end. Perhaps someday, I will tell you the details." But not today.

"So it's true then?"

"About killing them, you mean? Oh yes." She said it so casually. She may as well have been talking about crushing insects, pests who had invaded the home. His stomach tied itself into knots, but he fought to remember. Regina had done terrible things. So had Gold. They had both been responsible for so much loss of life. So much darkness. It didn't mean they had to stay that way. He gripped this comfort and pressed on, though he wasn't so sure he really wanted to know the answers.

"And the part about the Vorpal Blade?" He hadn't been looking at her, but perhaps he should have been. He would have seen her expression change, would have been able to anticipate the next movement. Instead the wind was knocked from him as he was thrust into the nearest wall, dropping the mug at her feet. Hot coffee and bits of porcelain exploded across her leg, but she didn't notice that either. She was too preoccupied with lifting him from the floor by his throat, his hands clutching her arm in time to keep his neck from taking damage under her grip. People aren't meant to be lifted by their head, he had to keep his hands on her arm for proper support and pray her anger would continue to prove as short of an explosion as the fuse.

"What about it?" he could barely make out the words within the growl, the sound vibrated through his very core, "It's gone. You want to be rid of me?" as she spoke the growl began to subside, and he was very slowly sliding down the wall until his toes, then his feet, could touch the floor again. "You can't use me, then put me on a shelf when you're done. If you want to pin me to a wall, to lock me away for so many centuries, until you're ready to use me again," his eyes were pressed closed as she spoke, and remained so when her grip loosened and voice silenced. She was still there. He could still feel her fingers curled loosely around his neck. Why was everyone so fond of grabbing his neck? He managed to pry his eyes open, the gaze he was met with stealing his breath. We're all mad here. She was, perhaps, the maddest thing he had ever encountered. That green was a swirling storm, and no matter how composed her face might be the eyes were raw and pure emotion like he had yet to see from anyone else in all his years. The one part that she couldn't hide, which gave away everything. He'd noticed their color before, but hadn't yet had the courage to really and truly look into them.

"Then you're going to have to make a new blade. Can _you_ make that sacrifice?" A laugh bubbled out of her that would have suited better if accompanied by tears. An image came to his mind just then. Of a pond with a perfectly calm surface, barely a ripple. And under the water, the girl he had seen when she began her story was drowning. Sinking further into the depths. Was it only fanciful thinking on his part, that she was still in the process of sinking? But that, if he dove in, he could pull her to the surface? Or was she already too far gone?

"I didn't mean it like that." His words were a whisper, yet they cut off her laughter.

He should be worried. He should be trying to preserve himself. Or at least be angry with her outburst. Instead he apologized.

"I'm sorry." Her fingers still rested on his throat, but he extended a hand to her shoulder, not expecting her to jerk backwards with the touch, reminding him of a wounded animal more than a person. A comparison he felt slightly ashamed for making, even if it did fit so many of her behaviors.

"That must have been…lonelier than I can imagine." The glance she shot him was fire, he braced for another attack and received none.

The more he learned about her the more he felt he could help. The more what he knew logically to be blatantly abusive behavior felt less calculated and more as if she were genuinely trying to adjust but simply didn't know how to interact. After centuries in a cell? Or, did she actually mean pinned to a wall? Either explained much about their interactions so far. He doubted anyone else would be inclined to help, something perhaps she had known. She said there was a reason she had come to him. Though perhaps that was an exaggeration as well. Surely he wasn't the only one who could come to understand her when given the time? When he slowed his heart rate he spoke up again. More firmly than before, but still gentle.

"Imogen," she didn't look at him, "I'm only trying to learn about you. I would never-" she stood tall once more and seemed to have recovered as much as she was ever able to.

"You asked me what I wanted. There is one thing I'd like." She tilted one ear toward him in silent interest, so he continued, "I'd very much like if you could make another friend." he was careful to make sure she didn't feel he was trying to brush her off.

"Why?"

"This town is filled with all kinds of people with all kinds of stories. I can't imagine how you must have felt, locked away for all those years. But if you're free now, you have the opportunity for everything you couldn't have before. And that includes friends."

"I have my freedom." She trailed off, reciting the word the way some recited quotes from a favorite book.

"Yes, but it's what you'll do with it that counts."

"I suppose burning the town to the ground is not what you have in mind."

"Not in the least." He was very quick to put that idea's flame out.

"And you think friendssssss, is what I'm after?" her confidence was returning, slithering towards him with that hiss.

"You asked what I want. I think if you gave it a try, maybe you'd like the results."

"I didn't say I'd _do_ what you want." She was grinning again. Knowing what he did now it wasn't difficult to conclude that if she felt used, this behavior of dominance was a crutch to allow her to feel more in control. While it was a coping method, now that he knew as much he hoped given time he could help her find a healthier mechanism to deal. Instead of touching him she placed her hands on the wall, each near his head on either side. He would comment about the behavior being inappropriate, if he didn't suspect that would encourage her further.

"No, you didn't." he confirmed instead.

"It won't work."

"How will you know if you don't try?" one hand found his face again, she really liked to touch his face, he stiffened even though this time the touch was gentle. Too gentle.

"If you insist, I'll give it a try. And when it fails-"

"Well of course it's going to fail if you expect it to." He was fighting very hard to stay focused on the conversation instead of her traveling fingers, which had drifted down to his neck and begun playing at the edge of his robe at his collar. He also fought to remind himself that she showed this habit with the objects in his place as well. It was just a quirk, hands exploring things as she spoke, ever restless. It didn't mean anything.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"A little bit, yes."

"My poor cricket."

"My name is Archie."

"Yes, but I like cricket. For all of us who start out human…" he hung onto the unfinished statement, but she moved away from him instead of finishing it.

"I suppose you also have someone in mind? Or am I to wonder out and simply find these so-called friends?"

"That's usually how it works, yes. But I could make a few suggestions if you would prefer?"

"You might as well." As ever she was too stubborn to outright admit much of anything, but it appeared she might give it a try all the same.

"Well you've already mentioned Gold and Regina," perhaps not the best influences in the world under normal circumstances, but both were making strides towards improvement which could make a good example, "Belle could be a good one. I know you've said you aren't fond of children, but Henry is a smart boy who's come pretty far for his age." He would normally say anyone would be a potential friend, but considering her current social skills he wasn't so sure.

"We will see." Is all she said. As always, she left as quickly as she came. As usual, once she was gone, Pongo emerged from his hiding space with a whine.

"I know, boy. None of this is easy." He stooped down to gain the licks from his canine companion, taking comfort in the warm fur before he had to throw out the broken mugs and clean up the spilled coffee.

"But I'm not going to give up. I'm making progress." The bark could have been confirmation or a warning. Archie doesn't speak dog to know. He could only hope he was learning how to speak Jabberwocky.


End file.
